


Mating Call

by Unusual_Raccoon



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Canary Cry, Day 3, F/M, Forgive me this was written on my phone, I'm Bad At Tagging, Lauliver Week 2020, Lauriver Week 2020, Smut, first time writing for this pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:08:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22471573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unusual_Raccoon/pseuds/Unusual_Raccoon
Summary: Oliver and Laurel encounter an unforeseen consequence of the Canary Cry... in the bedroom.
Relationships: Earth-2 Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen, Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen
Comments: 9
Kudos: 26





	Mating Call

They were on a clock, it wasn’t so romantic, but it was the reality of their situation. Besides they tried romance once...in another life. This was their second chance. Oliver was on borrowed time, so said the space god with horrible fashion sense. The way Oliver explained it, why not have some fun? Which was how they arrived here - 

Her thighs were trembling and each breath she took in felt like inhaling kerosene. Everything felt hot, including the heavily callused hand smoothing down her taut stomach.

She thrashed back against the bed, catching glimpses of the dark strip of silk covering her eyes. It was his idea, but she could play ball.

“Pretty Bird.”

She hears the fond name whispered into the hot air, pressed against her skin, his lips follow downward smearing satin kisses against her flesh. Laurel marvels at how much she can hear while she’s blindfolded. She can hear his every breath. His breathing is ragged and almost predatory and makes her shiver in anticipation.

The hearing is nothing though compared to the sensation, the featherlight kisses are divine, but overshadowed by the vibrant sting of his teeth on her inner thigh. Some strangled noise tore straight from her throat, god, why did that feel good?

Her wires were crossed, then again he always that affect on her. Laurel was panting now, hypersensitive, beyond tempted to reach and pull off the stupid blindfold, but...that would ruin the fun.

“Oliver.”

She whines his name and twists in irritation as her ears register his soft, clearly amused laugh. Laurel expects the sting of his teeth once more but is rewarded with a swipe of his tongue between her thighs that makes her whole body arch off of the bed.

“Fuck!” She swore, tightly curled fists pulling at the sheets on the bed. She hums at the press of his warm hands, lifting her legs over what she thinks are his shoulders. She thinks her skin might sizzle where it touches his, she can feel the faint twitching of his muscles beneath her.

His fingers dig into the flesh of her thighs, his warm wet mouth pressing those teasing kisses down her hipbone. Laurel jumps at the warm wash of his breath over her exposed sex. Her whole body is trembling, his saliva and her liquid arousal dripping from her.

She thinks she might tear a hole in his sheets with how tightly balled the fabric is in her palms. She thrashes, a fiery gasp filling her lungs as his tongue delves into her without warning, hot and hungry. Oliver is relentless as his tongue lashes her again and again. Her hips are wiggling, trying to keep him there, trying to prolong the pleasure. Each time he pulls away for just long enough to let her cool off.

It’s frustrating, so terribly frustrating, she thinks, being brought so close to the edge only for the temptation of that bliss to be ripped away.

Oliver’s tongue is wicked and insistent pushing her closer and closer, pleasure swelling so brightly in her she almost forgets how to breathe. Her hands clamor for something, anything as she twists in pleasure, a gentle mewling sound drips from her lips when she feels the width of Oliver’s hand fill one of her own.

He is relentless now as he laps at her like a starved animal, his beard scrapes her sensitive flesh making her squirm in some muddled mix of discomfort and elation.

Laurel is frantic, her breathing coming out in short quick pants like she was hyperventilating, bliss was so close, so looming and intense it was terrifying.

Then it hit her hard like a punch to the gut. She was hurdling over that precipice, downing in her own release...breathless, overwhelmed, so she screamed. 

She lay back on the dewy sheets, her whole body quaking like an exposed nerve. She was throbbing...

It was only after a moment did Laurel register that she couldn’t really hear anything. Then it occurred to her, it was less of a scream that left her lips moments earlier rather it was more of a cry...the cry. Scrambling to sit upright, she tore off the silly silk blindfold, her fingers ran through her short blonde hair, finding some coarse bits of what felt like paint or plaster sprinkled over the curls.

Staring down between her thighs, her cheeks burned at the sight of Oliver motionless his head lolled against her thigh. He was hardly moving, or so she thought until his shoulders started shaking gently. She waited with bated breath, terrified at the thought of having accidentally killed him, let alone the sheer embarrassment of having killed him because he made her come really hard.

Her lover lifted his head, blue eyes creased in the goofiest of smiles as his shoulders continued to shake with the force of his laughter. He was laughing...that asshole was laughing at her. Laurel swatted at his shoulder, mouth twisted in a little frown, yet Oliver continued to laugh.

“Ollie, it’s not funny.” She said, just then noticing the bits of plaster dusted in his hair as well. He crawled up from his spot at the foot of the bed, her fingers tracing old scars as he crept closer and closer. Her legs tangled with his instinctively when he pulled her into his arms.

“It was a little funny.” He admitted with a brilliant grin, humming a happy sound when she kissed him hard without reservation. Pulling back from the kiss her teeth caught his lower lip and he growled out a pleased little moan.

“I could’ve killed you.” Laurel murmured against the coarse hairs on his cheek.

“It would’ve been a pretty amazing way to die.” Oliver admitted with a laugh of his own, he dipped his head to down to press a kiss to her forehead. He could be such a boy sometimes, all goofy and childish despite the bits of grey littering his beard and faintly streaking his hair.

Laying against his warm chest, Laurel stretched out to pillow her head more comfortably. The pair stared up at the ceiling watching the spidering crack where the plaster had splintered...

Laurel couldn’t help the nervous bubble of embarrassment in her belly, she had never really lost control, not even in her days as Black Siren. But with Ollie? Things were always different, she was always different - warmer? Better. Turning to her lover, she studied his dimpled smile as he marveled at the crack in the ceiling.

“Let’s go with the gag next time.”


End file.
